


but if i sing along (a little goddamn louder)

by thegrimeslegacy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Angsty Carl, Cute, Hormonal Teenagers, M/M, Protective Ron, You Are My Sunshine, carl can not sing, porchdick is a dick, rarl - Freeform, vinyl records
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimeslegacy/pseuds/thegrimeslegacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ron and carl have a mutual hatred for their fathers and the world in general.</p>
<p>[[based on 'happy song' by bring me the horizon]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	but if i sing along (a little goddamn louder)

> _**'You want to give up** _   
>  _**Gave it all that you've got** _   
>  _**And it still doesn't cut'** _

 

Ron wasn't happy, that much was clear. His chest ached, his head pounding and the continuous bleeding from his open wound was really starting to piss him off. He had done his job though.

It would happen every few nights. His father would drink more than he should and start an argument with his mom, usually by bringing up how bad Ron was doing at 'school'. This caused his mom to defend him, much to Ron's distaste as he knew what would come next. His father would get defensive, Sam would lock himself in the cupboard upstairs and his mom would end up on the floor with her nose bleeding or something bruised. His father would walk away.

This would be about the time that Ron became a little too angry for his own good.

He'd try to defend his mom, saying it was his own fault because school was useless in this world [not that it wasn't useless before the outbreak]. He would blurt out a string of curses to him before he could even think, calling him awful things. Pete would turn and attack him with something a little different each time. The first few times it was only slurred words, then those words turned into fists and it stayed that way for along time. But, tonight, those fists were replaced with a knife.

Ron had learnt how to defend himself over time. He had to, because he never listened to his mom when she told him to leave. He had Enid teach him fighting skills since she did martial arts as a kid. He's never told her the reason why though, she could never find out about that or else he's never be able to look her in the eye.

He had been fighting back for the past months and made sure he returned every punch to his father, including the ones he gave to his mom. Unfortunately, he didn't input enough force and always ended up on the floor beside or across from his mom.

Pete would skulk out after that, going off to another room or spending the rest of the night at one of the vacant houses. Ron would lay there helplessly, the loser once again. He'd stay there for ten minutes or so before forcing himself to get up, despite the pain.

His mom always came first, no matter how bad he was hurt, she always came before him. He would help her up the stairs to the 'panic room', which was the separate bedroom to which only her and Ron had the key. He'd give her a pill from the stash of painkillers he had stolen from the town medical supply- which his father, fortunately, hadn't found out about- and put her to bed, tucking her in like she used to do for him.

Then he'd go and coax Sam out of the cupboard. He'd usually sit on the other side for hours upon hours trying to convince him it was safe, that their father had left. Sam would always ask the same question.

"Are you sure?"

Ron never liked lying to his brother since Sam could tell when he was lying. So he always gave the same answer.

"For now."

Finally Sam would unlock the door-usually at around one am- and he would hug Ron, crying his bloody eyes out. Ron himself would think selfish thoughts as he hugged his brother back. _'Why is he crying? He didn't even get touched!'_ But, he would discard them as soon as he thought them, a wave of guilt overtaking him as he hugged Sam tighter.

He would take Sam into the panic room and tuck him in beside his mom, who was usually asleep by then. He'd turn off the lamp and leave the room, going to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Tonight was different from the others. Instead of applying the bruise cream to bruises he was dabbing a damp bath towel onto his cut. It wasn't a big cut, just a light slit across his forearm. Unfortunately, the lightest cuts usually bled for as long as the deeper ones- and they definitely stung more too.

Ron eventually gave up on stopping the bleeding and bandaged the cut like his father had taught him when he was sober. He went downstairs and stared at the analog clock on the wall- 12:37am.

His mother and brother were sleeping soundly upstairs. His father was most likely seething in the house around the corner. All that was left for Ron to do was find a place where he could sulk. Usually this would be his room, but after the attack with the knife he couldn't stand being in the house. He had to get out, to be anywhere but there.

And with that, he exited the household in hope of a more peaceful morning.

 

Carl Grimes would never go as far to say he hated his family. Sure, his dad often dealt with things the wrong way at the worst times and Judith was a liability to the group, still, he loved them both more than anything. But, after their argument that night, he _despised_ his father.

Carl knew they weren't safe. There was _no_ _ **way** _ they were safe in this community and Rick wouldn't have it. His father thought he had shielded him from what was going on behind the scenes, but Carl wasn't that stupid. Noah had told him exactly what happened with Aiden and Nicholas and why Glenn knocked Aiden on his ass. He knew how incompetent they were and had convinced himself that the whole community- in exception of Enid -was the exact same.

Carl had always been hot-headed in arguments. His friends in primary school always told him how loud his voice got when he was mad at them- and that part of him had only gotten worse since the outbreak. So, when Rick brought it up in their bedroom that night, it didn't go down to well.

He could barely remember what had been said, but it escalated quickly. Carl had already been agitated about his attraction to Enid and frustrated about his feelings towards his new friend, Ron. He wasn't gay, he knew that, but there was.. _something_ about Ron Anderson that he was attracted too and he didn't like it.

_'They're dating.'_ he thought to himself as he sat on his bed, _'You can't_ _like_ _ **both** of them, that's just wrong. __**And** __you can't like **one** of them, not like that.'_

Again, he couldn't exactly remember what had been said, but he knew how it started. His father entered the room at 10:15pm and asked to talk with him. He asked a harmless question, but Carl really wasn't in the mood.

"Do you think this place is safe?"

"Absolutely not."

Rick had noticed the edge in Carl's voice but asked him why regardless. Carl said something about everyone being ' _self-righteous assholes that thought they knew everything when they didn't know shit.'_ It was idiotic on Carl's behalf. He didn't even know what self-righteous meant.

Carl's voice ended up rising and it got so out of hand that Carol ran up with a kitchen knife in her hand to see what the hell was going on. They had woken up most of the others and by 11:45pm Carl was moved to the couch downstairs.

He didn't know how long he'd been lying there. It was dark, he was cold and he could hear Judith crying in the crib upstairs. He didn't know why he was so angry, but he overheard Carol saying that it was a _'teenage'_ thing to Rick.

_'What a load of bullshit.'_ Carl thought, as he turned on the couch. It wasn't comfortable at all, still, he had slept in worse places. He sat up, trying to make out the hands on the clock that was on the wall. He squinted and cocked his head- 12:40am.

He couldn't sleep if his life depended on it. All he wanted to do was scream pointless profanities at his father and tell his sister to _shut the_ _ **fuck** __up._ He had to get out before he did either of those.

So, doing what he thought was best, Carl slipped outside for a breath of fresh air.

 

Ron Anderson did not expect to see Carl Grimes sitting on the park bench at one in the morning. There was never anyone out at that time in the morning and certainly no one sitting on _his_ park bench that _he_ cried on. But, in the younger boy's defense, Carl wasn't crying. He was sitting silently, his hair getting tangled around his neck as a gentle wind blew through. Infact, Ron wasn't sure if he was even awake.

"Carl?" He said quietly, causing the other boy to jump slightly and turn around. His eyes looked wild in the moonlight, as if he was ready to attack at any given moment.

"Oh, you're awake." Ron said blandly, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. Carl's expression softened as he realised he wasn't in danger and gave Ron a forced smile before turning his back to him.

"Oh, no...I was just..thinking." He said hesitantly before turning back around to give Ron a second look. Carl looked him over once more and eyed the bandage wrapped around his forearm. "What're you doing out here?"

"Oh, just...thinking." Ron replied, repeating what Carl said because he had no idea what else to say. He took a few strides towards him and sat on the other half of the bench.

"What happened to your arm?" Carl asked without thinking, his eyes still on the poorly wrapped bandage. He tilted his head to the side, inspecting the speckled blood stains on the white fabric.

Ron immediately placed his other hand over the bandage, becoming nervous. "Oh, um, I cut it when I was helping my mum with dinner." He lied, avoiding Carl's eyes. It was obvious the other boy was not fooled, though he didn't push any further.

The pair sat in silence for a while, one looking onward at the rust ridden walls while the other stared up at the stars above them. Both would steal looks at the other when they thought they weren't looking, which resulted in cases of awkward eye contact before they both looked away.

They sat their for at least thirty minutes, an awkward, yet comfortable thirty minutes. Ron became restless, constantly bouncing his knee and wringing his hands within the last few minutes of silence.

"Hey, do you want go somewhere else?" He finally asked Carl, who looked at him with confusion. "There's a house in the back street that no one owns and Mikey and I stashed away a bunch of records and-"

"Records? Like actual vinyl records?" Carl interjected.

"Well, yeah. Mikey got them from his dad, along with a record player." Ron explained, amused by Carl's surprised tone. "His dad collected them before, it's all old music though...But it might be better than staying out here." He said, adding on the last sentence as he heard a soft groan from outside the wall.

Carl thought for a second, staring down at his hands. He was still angry about Alexandria as a whole, but he knew that Ron didn't fall into the 'self-righteous asshole' category of the safe zone. He liked Ron, maybe a little too much.

"Sure." He agreed, standing up and waiting for Ron to follow. The pair began to walk down the moonlit roads, both of them with their hands in their pockets. Ron kept his eyes on the road, oblivious to Carl's eyes that were looking at him.

The house was one of the few that had only one story. The boys walked into the front room and Carl looked around in awe. There were at least fifty different records lying around in piles. The record player was situated on a table in the middle with a mattress on either side of the table.

  
"You can look around." Ron said, sitting down on one of the mattresses, "I don't mind what music we listen too. I've listened to all of them at least twice."

"Oh, okay." Carl nodded and did exactly that. He sat down cross-legged in front of the first pile and began to inspect each of them. He realised that they weren't in any particular order as he went through them. _Dressed To Kill- KISS. A Night at the Opera- Queen. I Love Rock 'n Roll- Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. Bat Out of Hell- Meatloaf. Piano Man- Billy Joel. Hot in the Shade- KISS. I'm Your Baby Tonight- Whitney Houston._

Carl found it hard to believe that Ron could enjoy all of these records, as they spread over a range of genres. He put aside the Whitney Houston record and stared at the one underneath it. He blinked, vague memories of his mother singing the song to him with her not-so-great singing voice. The record's casing was battered, but the record itself was in decent condition aside from a few small scratches. Carl arranged the other records into their original pile and slipped the record out of its casing and placed it on the record player. He hit the power button and moved the tone-arm to the middle of the record before sitting beside Ron.

Ron couldn't help but laugh when the music began to play.

_'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.'_

Carl looked at Ron in amusement. "What?" He asked, though it was obvious he wasn't being defensive about it.

_'You make me happy when skies are grey'_

"Nothing, nothing." Ron said, laying down and letting out a sigh, "It's just a little...cheesy."

_'You'll never know, dear, how much I love you'_

"Oh" Carl laughed lightly along with the older boy. He sat on the edge of the mattress, looking down at Ron properly.

_'Please don't take my sunshine away'_

Ron's arms were sprawled out beside him, causing his brown shirt to crease around his torso. His legs were draped over the side the mattress and his shoes were battered, tapping on the wooden floor to the tune. His hair was damp with perspiration, strands clinging to his forehead. He looked like a wreck, though he also looked perfectly content in that moment as he mumbled the words.

_"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping._

_I dreamt I held you in my arms._

_When I awoke dear, I was mistaken._

_So I hung my head, and I cried."_

Carl couldn't help but sing along with Ron, despite the fact that he **could not** sing at all. Ron's voice was soothing in a strange way. His voice was raspy but soft and Carl felt as though the boy was serenading him. He pushed that thought far away before he convinced himself Ron was _actually_ singing to him.

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine._

_You make me happy when skies are grey._

_You'll never know, dear, how much I love you._

_Please don't take my sunshine away."_

Ron pushed himself up from the mattress, coming face to face with Carl. He smirked as Carl sang along with him, not caring about how _atrocious_ his voice was. They both looked to each other as the voices on the record faded out into an instrumental.

"Ron.." Carl started, looking down for a moment, "What really happened to your arm?"

Ron had almost forgotten about his wound while spending time with Carl. He took a long, hard look at the bandage. No one knew about his father, not even Mikey. His mother had made him swear not to tell anyone so it didn't get out of hand. But, things had already gotten out of hand and he felt as though he could trust Carl.

"..My father gets angry sometimes." He said ominously, "He can't control himself when he drinks and usually tries to lash out at my mum. I stopped him and that's the price I had to pay." He explained, gesturing to his forearm.

Carl looked at him in shock, his eyes darting from Ron's forearm to his saddened eyes. The older boy smiled lightly before Carl could say anything. The voices faded back into the song.

_'I'll always love you and make you happy._

_If you will only say the same.'_

"I'm okay, really." He assured the younger boy, "Don't worry, Carl. I've been dealing with it for a long time. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be." Carl said in a dark tone, feeling the same anger from earlier. Ron's father abused him and no one in the community did anything. It just proved that Carl's thoughts about the place were correct. No one was safe, not even those who had been in there from the start.

_'But if you leave me to love another._

_You'll regret it all on day.'_

Ron looked inquisitively at Carl for a moment, knowing that what he said was true. He shouldn't have to 'used to' defending himself from his father or 'used to' protecting his mother. He should be a normal kid, worrying about girls at school and whether or not he was going to pass the next exam. But, unfortunately, he didn't that luxury. Neither of them did.

Ron sighed, there was nothing he could do at that moment. So, he laid back down and began to sing the last verse, louder this time.

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."_

Carl's eyes followed Ron as he sprawled out on the mattress again. He shook his head slightly at how calm Ron looked and decided to lay beside him, singing along.

_**"You make me happy when skies are grey.** _

_**You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.** _

_**Please don't take my sunshine away."** _

Both boys sang as loud as they could, pushing all of their pent-up emotions into the words. Ron's voice became more hoarse, cracking in the last line and Carl was screeching more than singing. But, their voices went together. They were two broken harmonies sewn together.

_**"Please don't take** _ _**my** sunshine away."_

Their voices lowered in the last line, both of them realizing how loud they had been. The song ended and the crackling of the record player filled the room. Blue eyes met brown and they shared ear-splitting grins. Then, they did something neither ever thought they'd do again.

They laughed.

It wasn't forced or monotonous. The pair were in a full-on fit of genuine hilarious laughter. Their hands were clutching their sides and their eyes were squeezed shut as they shared their rare moment of happiness.

And, just for now, everything was okay. 

> _**So let's sing along** _   
>  _**Let's sing along** _   
>  _**A little fucking louder** _   
>  _**A little fucking louder** _   
>  _**Well, don't you feel so much better?** _

**Author's Note:**

> forget kudos for me, kudos to you if you caught the comic book reference ;)


End file.
